The Genuine Article
by MuchTooHighACost
Summary: When a magazine article insinuates that there's more to Tony and Pepper's relationship, they are forced to go to extremes to keep the public guessing, and learn some things about the true nature of their feelings in the process.
1. Chapter 1

**Simultaneously thrilled and terrified to announce my first multi-chap Pepperony fic. Let me know what you think!**

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><p>The request for an interview comes across her desk one morning with a dozen or so others, and it catches her eye because the writer in question promises that she isn't out to paint Tony as a warmonger or an attention whore; rather, she wants to write a piece that will acquaint people with Tony's vulnerable side, make him more human as opposed to machine. Pepper is intrigued, so she contacts the writer and sets up an interview.<p>

In the ten years that she has worked for Stark Industries, dozens of articles have been written about the company, its purpose, its owner, and his notorious reputation. Pepper has developed a thick skin about it, getting used to the alliterative insults reporters create for Tony, managing to take the wild accusations about his private life with a grain of salt; once she was his personal assistant she knew what was true and what wasn't, and that was all that mattered.

But with Tony's admittance of his superhero identity, the number of people who want a piece of him skyrocketed overnight. Pepper's Blackberry, usually buzzing occasionally at her side, is now ringing off the hook, so much so that she's gotten two new numbers to avoid unwanted calls since that fateful press conference three months prior.

"Who is this again?" Tony asks that morning as Pepper briefs him on his daily schedule, coffee in hand for the both of them.

Pepper rattles off the woman's position at the publication she works for, her credentials, even shows him the copy of her resume she'd found online, to which Tony waves his hand dismissively.

"She wants to humanize you, so please be on your best human behavior," Pepper cautions.

"As opposed to my best robot behavior," Tony says, taking a sip of his coffee out of the white ceramic mug emblazoned with the SI logo. "I can assure you I'll give a stellar performance, but I can't make any promises about Dummy."

"Ha, ha." Pepper rolls her eyes.

"This is yours," Tony says, making a face at his coffee cup. "There's lipstick on this one."

"What? Are you sure? I—"

Pepper feels herself blush a deep shade of crimson as Tony holds the cup out for her to see. Sure enough, there is a smudge of her pearl pink lipstick on the rim of the mug, so faint that she wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't looking closely. Tony looked closely. He is looking closely now, but not at the mug, at her. At her lips. At her lips that are close to his—when had she moved so close to him? She smells his aftershave.

"Miss Potts, our visitor has arrived," JARVIS intones brightly.

"Right."

Pepper makes a quick exit and forgets the coffee mix-up until some weeks later, when the article hits print.

She awakes the morning it is printed to no less than fifty-seven emails, twenty-four text messages, and one very well-meaning voicemail from her mother who wants to know why hadn't her daughter told her she was dating a billionaire?

It is the voicemail that sends her leaping from the bed and scuttling to her computer, desperate to see what ridiculous things they are saying about Tony now and what it means for her in terms of damage control. She is astounded to find that the article is less about Tony than it is about… _her._ She sinks further and further into the ergonomic swivel chair in her home office as she reads each word, and by the time she is finished, she can feel herself sweating through the t-shirt she slept in.

Fingers shaking, she reaches for her phone and dials Tony.

Tony Stark rarely sleeps past six-thirty AM. Some of this is due to the time he spent in captivity; the harsh work lights of the Afghan cave made rest difficult, especially when he didn't know if he'd wake up again if he closed his eyes. But most of it is due to the incredible discipline of his mind.

As someone who'd been pegged as a social cavalier, Tony prides himself on the control he has over his own mind. Once started on a task, he is extremely focused and refuses to stop until he sees it through to completion. Excess time spent in bed takes away from precious hours he could be using to solve the next problem, figure out the next step.

But when his personal cell phone buzzes on his bedside table at 5:53 AM, his only thought is, _this had better be good. _

"Stark," he grumbles.

The voice of his best friend comes through crackly and garbled, like he is driving through a tunnel. "Hey man, you seen the interview that came out about you this morning?"

"Do I sound like I've seen the interview that came out about me this morning?"

"Come on, man, it's almost nine here in New York. The day's practically half over."

"I can't wait until you're back on west coast time because these early morning phone calls, endearing as they are, have got to stop."

"Just read the article, Tony," Rhodes says, and his tone of voice makes Tony obey once he hangs up the phone.

"JARVIS," Tony calls from his perch on the bed, "pull up the article from that piece I was interviewed for last month."

"Right away, sir," the automated intelligence responds.

The window wall darkens and fills with the magazine's website, pulled up to the article in question. The corners of Tony's mouth quirk up in a smile as he reads the title. His brow knits in contemplation as he finishes the first several paragraphs. He lets out a hearty laugh at the speculation at the end.

"Jarv, has Potts seen this?"

"Miss Potts is currently out of my range, sir, as she is in her own home. Would you like me to contact her?"

"Please do."

Pepper yelps as her phone buzzes in her hand, a millisecond away from pressing "call."

"I was calling you," she answers, not sure why she makes it sound like an accusation.

"Maybe it's true what they're saying in the papers," Tony drawls. "You do know me better than anyone else."

Pepper wants to crawl back under the covers and never leave. She should have known that Tony would take perverse pleasure in the insinuations of the article.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snaps. "I'll send an email to the editor of the magazine and get it taken down."

"It's in print, Potts," Tony counters. "What are you going to do, call every grocery store and magazine stand in the country and ask them to take it off the shelves? Even then, what about the people who've already bought it? Big brother isn't really my style, but I suppose we could track them down—"

"Stop it!" she hisses, rubbing her temples. "I get it, there's nothing we can do about the print copies. But I could at least talk to whoever manages the magazine's webpage."

"Isn't that PR's job?"

"No, it's _my _job. The article is about _you_, and it's my stupid job to make sure _you _look good in the public eye."

"Ah, there it is," Tony says. She can hear him smiling over the phone. "That 'sexy savoir-faire in sleek Saint Laurent.'"

"Don't quote it!" Pepper groans.

"Oh, come on, that's not even the best part. My favorite was 'One can only imagine what Potts is like off the clock. The consummate professional has her pick of elegant couches to recline on while her employer provides what is sure to be a generous quarterly bonus.'"

Pepper chokes on a sob, mostly out of the purest embarrassment she's ever felt in her entire life, and a little bit because the image of her sprawled across the sofa with Tony's head between her thighs is almost too beautiful to bear.

"At least they got that part right," Tony says. "I am a very generous lover, Potts."

"I want to die," she whimpers, and it's true. She's never been more embarrassed or ashamed or red-faced than she is right now, curled up in a ball in her desk chair.

Tony is quiet for a moment. She can feel him on the other end of the phone, thinking of what to say, which, for him, means a lot. The moments that Tony Stark picks and chooses his words carefully are few and far between. That small gesture is enough to make Pepper calm; she takes a deep breath.

"I'll be over by eight and we'll figure something out," she says.

"I'll send Happy," he offers.

"I don't want to draw attention."

"Driving your personal car to my house on a Saturday morning will draw attention. He'll be there in half an hour."

"I haven't even taken a shower," she stammers, momentarily stunned by Tony's extremely logical train of thought.

"I'm sure you still look gorgeous," he says, and for once she is not angry with him. "Half an hour."

After she hangs up she sits there for a moment in shock. Not only is Tony willing to help clean up the nightmare that is the article, but he is the one making plans, offering suggestions, thinking things through. She's glad one of them is. Because as she steps into the shower, it is hard to keep that image from the article out of her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Re-uploading because I accidentally left out this small portion at the beginning of the chapter. Apologies, but thanks for all the reviews thus far! Working on chapter 3 as we speak:)**

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><p>Pepper Potts does not do casual Friday, but she does do casual fixing-this-massively-embarrassing-press-nightmare-meeting Saturday. When Happy pulls up in front of her condo, she bounds quickly down the stairs in black capri running pants and matching jacket with a ball cap pulled down over her face, ponytail bobbing behind her.<p>

"Hey, Potts," the chauffer greets with a friendly smile. "Good morning."

"No," she sighs, "but it will be."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that article," Happy says. "You know how reporters are. They all print the same bull just to get attention, and half of it's not even true. I mean, none of _this_ is true, that's for sure."

He is asking rather than telling, but Pepper doesn't have the energy to respond to his friendly advances. Not today.

When they pull out of her gated community there is a ridiculous amount of traffic, even by West Coast standards. And people standing around. It looks like chaos.

"Was there an accident?" she asks, but even as the question is leaving her mouth she already knows the answer.

It's reporters. And they're all looking for her.

"Drive," she says frantically. "I don't care where, just drive."

Happy does a skillful one-eighty and they speed off. Despite her better judgment, Pepper peeks out the back window and sees, through the tinted glass, several reporters getting in their vehicles.

"Don't worry, I'll lose 'em," Happy says.

Pepper is usually pleased by his chivalry and good-naturedness, but this morning it is just annoying.

"Just get me to Tony's," she sighs.

It is only after the fact that she realizes it sounds like Tony is her refuge, her port in the storm that is about to consume them both. But she is too tired to care, and maybe it's just a little bit true.

X

"I'm glad you're finally taking my suggestions about dress code," Tony drawls when she lets herself in.

"Shut up," she growls.

"It's very Sporty Spice, very fitness Barbie."

"I swear to God I will quit right now if you don't stop."

Tony holds his hands up in surrender.

In her sneakers she is almost shorter than him, which makes no sense; his feet are bare, she should be taller. She knows this because they are the same height exactly. Tony made JARVIS measure once.

"So where are we with this whole thing?" Pepper asks, dropping her purse down on the coffee table. Also something different. Normally it sits neatly in the armchair in the small office Tony created for her at the house. She works in the living room sometimes, yes, but she doesn't, as a rule, keep her personal belongings there. With all the time she spends at the house, it feels too much like nesting.

But today is a day for rules to be broken.

Tony claps his hands and the windows in the living room display a personal case file on the woman who conducted the interview and wrote the article.

"Marcia Matheson. Worked for the magazine seven years, here's her home address, phone number, criminal record…" He pauses and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Indecent exposure. Nice."

Pepper shoots Tony a glare. "What about the editor of the magazine? Anything on her yet?"

"Actually it's a him."

Tony swipes his finger through the air and the images and information change to that of a balding man in his forties. "Sam Winston, editor-in-chief."

Pepper has already whipped out her Blackberry to take down the series of phone numbers and email addresses flashing across the screen.

"Okay, I should be able to get in touch with Matheson's people by the end of the day, set up a time to meet with her and the people from legal—"

"We don't need legal there," Tony says.

"Don't you want to press charges? Defamation of character or something?"

"Potts, you of all people know that I am more than capable of defaming my own character."

"Is that supposed to make me proud of you?" she sighs exasperatedly.

"Besides, I've already called her."

"Who?"

"Matheson. She's coming over in half an hour."

"What!"

"When, where, why, how. You could've been a journalist yourself."

"This is no time for jokes!" Pepper snaps, her head spinning. She's used to Tony's spontaneity but this is a whole new level. "What do you mean she's coming over? To meet with who?"

"Us," Tony says. "We'll discuss this like rational adults and figure something out."

"_Us_," Pepper echoes. "You and I?"

Tony grins. "The happy couple."

"I don't know about you, but right now I am _not _happy, and we are definitely _not_ a couple."

"About that…" Tony says casually. "I have an idea, and I want you to go with me on this."

"No."

"You haven't even heard it yet."

"I'm not going to like it."

"You don't know that."

"I've never been surer of anything in my life," Pepper says, sitting down on the couch and whipping her phone back out. "You get that look in your eye and I just know—"

Tony snaps his fingers and points at her excitedly. "See, that's exactly what I'm talking about! It'd be easy to pull off."

"What would be easy?"

"Pretending to be a couple."

Over the years, Pepper has employed a very effective strategy to get Tony to realize just how insane some of his ideas are. Instead of trying to talk him out of it—which would only make him want to do it more—she simply repeats the exact phrase he's just said, but slower, and in a tone of voice that leaves no question as to her opinion on the subject. Using this method, she has effectively talked him out of moving to Antarctica, buying a zoo, and dyeing his hair blonde.

This time, she plans to use the same tactic, if she can get her heart to stop beating so loudly she's sure he can hear it.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she intones dryly, "_Pretending… to be… a couple._"

"You're doing that thing where you just repeat what I say."

"_I'm doing that thing… where I just—"_

"Come on, Pep."

"I don't think it's a good idea!" she huffs.

Tony, rarely deterred by roadblocks, seems to enjoy her challenge. "Support your argument. Go."

Pepper scoffs. "Where do I begin? There's too much room for error. You're constantly being followed, Tony. All that has to happen is for you to slip up, just once, and the whole thing would come crashing down around—hold on." She realizes she hasn't asked the most important question about his idea. "What exactly is the _goal _of pretending to be a couple?"

Tony shrugs. "You gotta give the people what they want, Pepper. And if these people want a romance between us, so be it. It'll be easier to deal with two weeks of questions and prying than to deal with them following us forever, trying to get us to admit something."

"I can't believe I'm actually hearing this. You want to lie about being in a relationship with me and you think that will get us _less _press coverage?"

"Why can't we just give this a shot?" Tony asks, his voice quiet. "It could work, Pepper. It really could."

"It could work for _you_," Pepper says emphatically, but her voice is soft. Something about his honesty has softened her resolve. "For you, it looks like you've finally nailed your assistant. But I end up looking like the… slut in all this. Sleeping with my boss, the next flavor of the week. Women are going to see us on the cover of _US Weekly _and pity me. I don't want their pity, I don't want their disgust, and I don't want to be in a relationship with you."

"A… pretend relationship, Potts," Tony reminds her, his voice still maddeningly quiet, although he's smirking now, like he knows he's got her.

"You know what I meant," Pepper snaps, and then feels her ears burn.

She plops down on the couch, yanks her baseball cap off her head, and pulls her ponytail loose from its hair tie. Her strawberry blonde hair falls over her shoulders and comes to rest halfway down her back. Tony can't help but stare as she fidgets with it, the usually composed Glamazon gone.

"How about this?" he asks, squatting down in front of her so they are at eye level. "This lady does the interview, we pretend to be a couple, but I make her promise to write the 'truth' about our relationship. How I endlessly pursued you. How you continually turned me down. How you almost quit after you found out I was Iron Man."

"Actually, I did quit—" Pepper interrupted.

"Shh, I'm doing a thing here. How you saved my life. How you finally fell for my dashing heroics and boyish charm. How you are in no way the flavor of the week. How you are a strong, independent woman who keeps my head on straight. How I don't deserve you."

Pepper can barely hear herself speak, her heart is pounding so loud. "You almost got it exactly right, up to that last part."

"Oh yeah?" Tony asks, his mouth falling into a crooked smile.

"There's nothing boyish about you, Tony Stark," she teases.

And then the doorbell rings.

"Please do this," he says. "I'll double your quarterly bonus."

"I'm not going to be _bought_, Tony—"

"I will find some way to make it up to you. I promise."

And suddenly he is holding her hand between his, and suddenly her resolve is melting, and suddenly she is saying, "Okay."

Tony squeezes her hand even tighter and pulls her in for a brief hug. He smells like musk and skin. When he lets go she shivers.

"Let's do this he says," and then he crosses the room in long strides and opens the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for your reviews for Chapters 1 and 2! Really makes it all feel worthwhile:) Enjoy chapter 3!**

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><p>In walks Marcia Matheson, wearing a similar skirt suit to the one she'd worn when she did the first interview. She is pretty, plump, about ten years older than Pepper, and teetering on a pair of kitten heels. Her round face is glowing like an animal that's stumbled upon its prey already in a trap.<p>

"Welcome to our home," Tony says warmly, and shakes her hand.

"You two seem a lot more laid-back than you were the last time I made a visit," Matheson observes in what Pepper immediately identifies as a self-righteous tone. Ugh, why hadn't she had the sense to sit in on the interview the first time? What on earth had he said to make this woman believe that they were—that they actually…

"And Ms. Potts, hello," Matheson said, breaking Pepper's train of thought. As they shook hands she added, "Casual Friday, is it?"

"She just came back from a run," Tony jumps in, planting a firm hand on Pepper's far shoulder. "She needs at least five miles a day or she gets stir crazy, this one."

Matheson's eyebrows rise. "I'm training for a half marathon now myself. You didn't seem dressed for running the last time we spoke."

"I was aware we were having company the last time we spoke," Pepper says icily. "I didn't even have time to shower before I heard you were on your way."

Tony shrugs. "And I told her that's the way I like her."

Out of pure shock (and—she'll admit to herself—a shiver of delight), Pepper hears herself say to Matheson, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Glass of water would be great," the reporter answers as Tony leads her left into the living room. As they fade out of earshot, Pepper hears her ask, "Now, this painting wasn't here when I visited last time, was it?"

Pepper scoffs and rolls her eyes, then pads into the kitchen. As she dispenses a glass of ice water from the fridge, she does something she's never done before. She looks up at the ceiling with a note of desperation in her voice and whispers, "Are you there, Jarvis? It's me, Pepper."

"At your service, Ms. Potts," the AI answers, and Pepper knows that if bots could whisper, that's what she'd describe the automated butler as doing now.

"There's got to be something you can do to stop this," she whispers. "Turn on the in-house sprinklers, shut off the power, _something_."

"Regrettably, Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark has created failsafe override codes that only he has access to. Barring all events other than certain death, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."

"Some help you are," Pepper mutters, and leaves the kitchen in a huff.

When she joins Tony and Matheson in the living room, they've just finished laughing about something she knows she shouldn't care about, but it still makes her feel terribly left out to come in on the end of a joke. She also doesn't like the way Matheson has familiarly seated herself in what happens to be Pepper's favorite armchair.

"Here's your water, I hope you wanted ice."

"Oh, I didn't, but thank you dear."

"Aren't you going to have something, honey?" Tony asks Pepper.

It takes her a moment to realize he's talking to her. "Oh… no. Why?"

"Well you're always so worried about staying hydrated after you exercise, especially after what happened to your mom last year."

He's really going all-in with this ridiculous charade, isn't he? His eyes are dancing with delight at making her squirm. Pepper bites her tongue so hard she swears she tastes blood, and then manages to get out, "I'm fine, I had a Gatorade when you weren't looking."

"That's all you were doing, I hope," Tony says roguishly. Pepper resists the very strong urge to slap him

"Well, Ms. Matheson, it seems like your article's got a lot of people talking," Tony says, reclining as Pepper sinks into the couch beside him. He's gotten so familiar with her in the two minutes that have already elapsed, but for some reason Pepper doesn't mind the physical intimacy as much as she minds the emotional. In fact, it's nice to feel his body heat against hers, his heartbeat thrumming alongside her own, reminding her that they are in this together.

Tony stretches his arm out behind her like a teenage boy at the movie theatre. He is warm against her shoulders and she feels him playing with a strand of her hair. It isn't the first time he's done it. Once, a year or so ago, he'd absentmindedly fiddled with her ponytail on the jet. They were both exhausted after a week of appearances in Europe, and she'd stiffened and brushed him away, but she's never forgotten what it felt like to be in Tony Stark's hands, to be one of the things he so dexterously touched.

Without realizing it at first, she loosens up and leans into his touch on the couch, her right shoulder resting in his left armpit. It's freeing, to not have to worry about what someone else might think, to just let go and act like he's just a guy and she's just a girl and they're just sitting together on a couch.

A gentle tug on her hair pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks at Tony, slightly confused.

"I said, it was your idea, wasn't it, honey?" Tony prompts.

"Yes," Pepper says, blinking a couple of times. "If it's going to be discovered, why not just put it all out there in the open?"

The look on Matheson's face is the one Tony gets when he's finally gotten a machine to work the way he wants it to. Beside her a recorder blinks with a mocking red light; she takes notes on a yellow legal pad. Pepper's stomach drops as she realizes that she's answered what apparently was not the correct question. Suddenly she feels like she's ten years old and has just been caught daydreaming at school, a disapproving nun looking down at her and the doodles in her composition notebook.

"I was talking about the art collection, Pep," Tony chuckles, a full-out grin threatening to break through.

"Oh!" Pepper feels herself turn crimson.

"Although, believe me, your enthusiasm to finally stand in the sun about our relationship is… heartwarming."

She narrows her eyes at her boss and clears her throat. "Yes, Tony's right, Ms. Matheson—"

"Please call me Marcia," the reporter says with a toothy smile.

"Ms. Matheson," Pepper repeats pointedly—she's never been a fan of familiarity, "Tony's house was such a bachelor pad before I started working for him. One or two big Rothko-esque behemoths on the walls. No character. He mentioned one morning that he wanted to make a good impression at a party he was hosting later that month, so I did some research and got some samples sent over. Needless to say the project sort of became my baby and now, well…" Pepper finishes by gesturing to the room around them grandly. It is one of her biggest accomplishments, and one she doesn't mind bragging about. She's worked damn hard on this collection, and it's as much her own as it is her employer's.

"You seem quite passionate about art, Ms. Potts," Matheson observes, not missing a chance to return the formality jab. Pepper likes it; it lets her know that she is still in control.

"Working for Tony makes me passionate," Pepper says, and the platitude comes a little too easily. She feels Tony stiffen with excitement beside her, his ears perking up now that she is finally playing along. What does she have to lose, really?

"That's why she's so great," Tony picks up. "We inspire each other. At work and… in other areas of life."

"How did it happen?" Matheson queries. "How did the inspiration begin? How did that spark turn into something more?"

"It was here," Pepper says, the sound of her own voice surprising even herself. "Downstairs in Tony's workshop."

"Do you spend a lot of time there, Mr. Stark?" Matheson asks Tony.

"_Yes_," Pepper answers emphatically, in what she imagines is a tone of voice that she would take if she was actually in a relationship with Tony and disapproved of how much time he spent tinkering. It scares her that it is not so different from a tone of voice she hears herself use every day.

"My work is important to me," Tony answers with a smirk, and an approving nod in Pepper's direction that she can just see dancing in his eyes. "And so is she."

Then his hand is on her knee, only thin lycra separating the skin of his hand from the skin of her thigh. She is hot and cold and it emboldens her. If he can mess with her, why can't she give it right back to him?

"I came downstairs and lit into him because he'd missed a budget meeting that morning, and suddenly he was kissing me." Pepper smiles, picturing the imaginary scene that's haunted her dreams once or twice and always makes her wake up trembling in a cold sweat. "I remember there was motor oil on his hands. He got some in my hair."

"It was the first time, but certainly not the last." Tony flashes a cheeky grin and Matheson erupts into giggles. "And I think it was all the more satisfying because we both knew it had been a long time coming."

Matheson is practically drooling. "Were there other… encounters before that night in the workshop?"

Tony shoots Pepper a sidelong glance, checking in, and suddenly she feels exposed, naked, like a raw nerve. Because if he does what she thinks he's about to do, then this isn't pretending anymore. This is real. He is about to tell a real, true story about their lives that only the two of them know and it feels like she is giving a little piece of herself away. But she's agreed to this now and Tony seems so sure that it will work, that they just have to ride the wave of being pop culture's flavor of the week, and it will all be over soon. So she nods.

"We… almost kissed. One night, several months ago—before we were together, I mean," Tony says, catching himself in time. He squeezes Pepper's knee, his hand still resting there.

"I had had a little to drink," Pepper admits. It's not entirely a lie. Historically, she's always taken two shots before any gala event at SI; it calms her nerves and gives her just enough reserve to schmooze with some of the people Tony invites to those things.

Tony turns to her. "Really? You never told me that before. And here I thought you were so big-eyed and flustered because of our magnetic attraction."

Pepper shrugs, slightly resentful at being referred to as "big-eyed", even though she knows it's true. Back when she modeled, the photographers had always told her to tone down her "crazy eyes."

"It was at an event," Tony continues, "an event for the company and she was there, looking… looking like… an angel, and I couldn't think of a better move than asking her to dance."

"I, of course, was having none of it," Pepper interjects. She can feel her ears burning red thinking about that night, though. About the way his eyes looked into her and saw her, really saw her for the first time. About how terrified it had made her. About how she went weak in the knees every time she remembered the way his eyes had devoured her hungrily.

"She was wearing this… incredible dress," Tony says, his eyes glazed over now. "She looks great in everything, of course, but this one was special. It somehow made her look like a woman and a girl at the same time. It was backless. And her hair was down, she never wears her hair down."

"It gets in my eyes…" Pepper hears herself mutter, but she is focused solely on Tony and the reverent way in which he finishes their story.

"We stepped outside and talked—because, let's face it, I needed it. The things I wanted to say to her, wanted to do to her weren't exactly appropriate for our current location. And out there on the balcony I had my shot. I should have kissed her. But I stopped. At the last minute I stopped and… I don't even know if I could tell you the reason why. It's one of my biggest regrets."

"But you made up for it," Matheson says.

"Beg pardon?"

"Your first kiss in the workshop. It sounds like you certainly repaid your debt there."

Pepper can only smile weakly because she literally cannot think, she literally cannot stop replaying that night over and over in her mind, analyzing it in detail, seeing it from his point of view now. He'd made passes at her for years, but to know he genuinely felt those things for her, to hear him say them out loud in a tone that is most certainly not a joke… suddenly this is very real.

"Oh no, I think it'll be a while before I repay her for that one," Tony says. He leans in to her then, his skin warm and his mustache softer than she expected, and places a wet kiss on her temple. His nose rests for a moment in the corner of her eye socket and she is sure she will never breathe again. When he pulls away she feels giddy, heady, like she's just stood up too quickly. It takes her a moment to realize he's still talking about her.

"…she's here when I get up every morning to brief me on my day—whether or not I listen is debatable—she's here working until well after I've called it quits. Every meeting, every trip, every mission, she is my go-to gal. I couldn't do any of it without her."

Pepper doesn't remember much of the interview after that.


End file.
